mind of the man.  Sir Marmaduke, during his journey in the cab, had resolved that, old as he was, he would, take this sinner by the throat, this brute who had striven to stain his daughter’s name—­and would make him there and then acknowledge his own brutality.  But it was now very manifest to Sir Marmaduke that there could be no taking by the throat in this case.  He could not have brought himself to touch the poor, weak, passionate creature before him.  Indeed, even the fury of his words was stayed, and after that last appeal he stormed no more.  ’But what is to be the end of it?’ he said.

’Who can tell?  Who can say?  She can tell.  She can put an end to it all.  She has but to say a word, and I will devote my life to her.  But that word must be spoken.’  As he said this, he dashed his hand upon the table, and looked up with an air that would have been comic with its assumed magnificence had it not been for the true tragedy of the occasion.

‘You had better, at any rate, let her have her child for the present.’

’No, my boy shall go with me.  She may go, too, if she pleases, but my boy shall certainly go with me.  If I had put her from me, as you said just now, it might have been otherwise.  But she shall be as welcome to me as flowers in May, as flowers in May!  She shall be as welcome to me as the music of heaven.’

Sir Marmaduke felt that he had nothing more to urge.  He had altogether abandoned that idea of having his revenge at the cost of the man’s throat, and was quite convinced that reason could have no power with him.  He was already thinking that he would go away, straight to his lawyer, so that some step might be taken at once to stop, if possible, the taking away of the boy to America, when the lock of the door was gently turned, and the landlady entered the room.

‘You will excuse me, sir,’ said the woman, ’but if you be anything to this gentleman—­’

‘Mrs Fuller, leave the room,’ said Trevelyan.  ’I and the gentleman are engaged.’

’I see you be engaged, and I do beg pardon.  I ain’t one as would intrude wilful, and, as for listening, or the likes of that, I scorn it.  But if this gentleman be anything to you, Mr Trevelyan—­’

‘I am his wife’s father,’ said Sir Marmaduke.

’Like enough.  I was thinking perhaps so.  His lady was down here on Thursday, as sweet a lady as any gentleman need wish to stretch by his side.’

‘Mrs Fuller,’ said Trevelyan, marching up towards her, ’I will not have this, and I desire that you will retire from my room.’

But Mrs Fuller escaped round the table, and would not be banished.  She got round the table, and came closely opposite to Sir Marmaduke.  ’I don’t want to say nothing out of my place, sir,’ said she, ’but something ought to be done.  He ain’t fit to be left to hisself, not alone, not as he is at present.  He ain’t, indeed, and I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t say so.  He has them sweats at night as’d be enough to kill any man; and he eats nothing, and he don’t do nothing; and as for that poor little boy as is now in my own bed upstairs, if it wasn’t that I and my Bessy is fond of children, I don’t know what would become of that boy.’